


Case 113: The Adventure Of Sweet Dreams (1894)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [146]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Deception, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Gay Sex, Gyms, Jealousy, Johnlock - Freeform, Justice, London, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Poisoning, Revenge, Servants, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 05:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17197766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Sherlock and John settle into their new routine - or rather Sherlock settles into John who is sore in areas he did not even know he possessed! Their first case back together (as in together together) involves a really annoying member of Sherlock's family whose name, most oddly, does not start with a 'B'.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaid_diah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaid_diah/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

Oh my Lord we had had sex!

All I can say is thank the Lord that one of the vile Mr. Kurt Moriarty's last acts on this planet was to summon John on a Wednesday, which at the time was the only full day my love then worked at the surgery. Because that meant we had six uninterrupted days of glorious, wonderful, energetic sex! And every time I hesitated and asked him if this was too much he would actually beg for more! Although perhaps taking him right in front of the curtains had been a tad unwise; my sex-frazzled brain had remembered a touch too late that with the light directly behind us our silhouettes would be clearly visible to anyone passing outside. Fortunately it had been shortly before six o'clock in the morning so we had apparently gotten away with it. 

Major Sherlock had certainly earned that extra promotion up to Lieutenant-Colonel!

I owed the equivalent of at least a quarter's rent to the wonderful Mrs. Harvelle who took to only making us food when we rang for it, one bell for a cold snack and two for a hot meal, then pushing a red card under the door to indicate that our food was ready outside. The woman was an angel, and she and her staff were all wonderfully selective of hearing over those heady days. And there seemed to be even more bacon than usual which was excellent, as I definitely needed the energy!

We had sex everywhere – and I do mean everywhere! - although some places were easier than others. The only exception was the fireside chair, not just because it was an antique and might not bear the weight of two grown men but because I knew that I could hardly look across at any future clients without thinking.... well, that! We were definitely getting a larger bath as that was wonderful sitting there with his larger frame embracing mine, and equally definitely never doing it on the floor again as rug burn - _ouch!_

I suppose it was three years being without the man I loved but for some reason I felt that I had an almost boundless energy those heady days. Of course we could not have sex twenty-four hours a day; John needed at least some rest the poor fellow but six hours was enough for that. Though I was gentler with him on the final Tuesday as I knew he could hardly go into work if I had 'kept it up' so to speak. Even so he limped out of our rooms the following day in very poor shape, and I heard him moaning at each of the stairs as he made his long and slow way down to his cab. He had a smile on my face a mile wide, though. I had my man back and nothing was going to take him from me ever again!

No, not even the mortification of receiving a one-word telegram from Mother that week which said, 'Finally!'.

֍

I had wondered if after a suitable rest after a long day at work John might be up for another six days of hedonistic bliss. Although when I had woken him up with a hand-job this morning he had had to bury his face into the pillow and scream into it; he was it seemed still a bit sensitive in some areas. No stamina, these older men. 

Unfortunately my hopes were shelved with the arrival of a guest shortly before I was expecting the love of my life back. My brother Luke.

“Ye Gods Sherlock, open a window!” he chuckled as he sat down by the fire. “This room reeks of sexually satisfied male!”

“John was very satisfied”, I agreed. “Several dozen times. Once quite close to where you are sitting!”

He shook his head although I could see that he was pleased for me. But his presence here could not be a good thing; Luke alone of all my brothers would not call at such a time unless it was important.

“How is Benji?” I asked. Our mutual friend and Luke's usual reason for leaving his house with a limp and a smile had had three of his children ill recently, and had lost his fruiterer's job to boot when the new shop owner had taken a dislike to him. My brother had sorted out a new house for him while I had managed to get him a job as a porter with the Great Eastern Railway. And his wife was pregnant again, with what would be the tenth addition to his dynasty.

“Much happier”, Luke smiled. “His wife is over her illness after that medicine John sent round. And you were right about his old job; it was because the new owner was a racist.”

“Such a pity that those noisy and over-running road works outside his shop are going to start soon”, I said insincerely. “What brings you here today?”

“Gaillard is in hospital.”

I looked at him in surprise.

“With what?” I asked. 

“Someone tried to poison him.”

“Please tell me you do not want me to find out who”, I sighed. “He has annoyed so many people with his follies over the years that it will be half the country.”

“I do not need you to find out who poisoned him”, he said.

I just looked at him. He sighed heavily.

“ _Mother_ wants you to find out who poisoned him”, he admitted. “And I feel sorry for poor John if you use that look on him!”

“I have other and better ways of keeping John in line now!” I smirked.

“Sherlock!”

I sighed. I did not like Gaillard but he had (if only because Mother would have hunted him down afterwards) helped with my and Jimmy's recovery after the explosion at 'Reichenbach'. Even if he had been careless enough to leave a fellow alive who might indeed have gotten the information to the late Doctor Kurt Moriarty had we not had several agents posted around the latter. Should Gaillard's slapdash approach had led to the loss of my beloved John – who had sent me an amusing telegram earlier bemoaning the lack of suspension in the average London cab – then my trickster brother would not now be worrying about a poisoning or Mother. I would have ended him myself!

“I take it that Gaillard will recover?” I asked. Luke nodded.

“He said that he felt ill immediately after dinner”, he said.

That did surprise me.

“Dinner at home? I asked. “Surely everyone ate the same? We both know how Mother is about not making any exceptions when it comes to food, even if Ranulph is currently identifying as a cannibal.”

“The cannibal was last week; now he is King Charles the First”, Luke said ruefully. “I suppose a beheading to add to the realism would be too much to hope for. No, Gaillard had apparently been worried over something or other although he would not say what it was, and as a result he ate very little. Although of course he had a full helping of dessert!”

“The day that Gaillard turns down dessert will be the day the Sun rises in the west!” I snorted. “Still, if he ate less overall it cannot have been the food unless there was something that he ate in the main course, and I sincerely doubt that.”

My brother nodded.

“I talked with Father and went through a menu with him”, he said. “He confirmed there was nothing that Gaillard ate that was not also eaten by at least two other people; we both know that Ranulph always eats a full helping yet he is fine.”

“More is the pity!” I muttered. “What did the doctor say?”

“He thought that it was some sort of mild acid”, Luke said doubtfully. “I cannot see Gaillard eating anything like that. He did say however that it had to have been eaten within a few hours of the cramps coming on, and could not have been as far back as luncheon.”

“Did Gaillard go anywhere that afternoon?” I asked.

“Only to the gymnasium.”

I stared at my brother incredulously. Had I mistakenly moved into a parallel universe without noticing?

“I think that my hearing must be going”, I said at last. “I could have sworn that you suggested that our brother Gaillard would be inside the building commonly known as a gymnasium.”

“I think that he may be after one of the ladies who work there”, Luke grinned. 

“Did he take a cab?” I inquired. My brother shook his head.

“Not the one we go to”, he said. “The new one that opened two streets away from the house.”

“Yes”, I said carefully. “And he still did not take a cab?”

Luke looked at me curiously.

“It was a fine day”, he said. “I presume that he decided to walk. Mother has been telling him to do more exercise.”

I thought for a moment, then remembered something that my half-brother Campbell had once said.

“Can you find out something for me?” I asked.

“Yes. What?”

“I want to know if he took the most direct route home.”

“Why would he not have done?” Luke asked curiously.

“He may indeed have”, I said. “But if he did not, that may provide part of the answer.”

“Which is?”

Which if I am right”, I said, “will mean that he does not need to worry about being poisoned again. Because Mother will kill him!”

“Or worse, read him one of her stories!” Luke chuckled.

John was getting to be a bad influence on him, no matter how right he was over that (approximately one hundred per cent).

֍

It was less than an hour later that I heard a slow trudge on the steps and grinned evilly. The love of my life was back from a hard day's work. I moved over to the door.

John walked in the room then gasped as I grabbed him, wrested his bag away and slammed the door while pushing him back against the wall next to it. He looked at me in surprise.

“Clothes off!” I ordered. “Now!”

“Sherlock....”

“I have waited three long years for this”, I said removing his tie and starting on his shirt buttons. “Yet the eight hours you were away from me today seemed just as long without your gorgeous body, now that I know I can have it every which way I want. You, naked, _now!_ ”

He nodded quickly and hurried to undo his trousers and pants before almost falling over as he tried to remove his shoes and socks. I had his upper garments off by this time and once more pushed him back against the wall eliciting a further moan, although I could see that at least one part of him was most definitely happy with proceedings. I reached down and grabbed his cock and his eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my God!”

“No, just your Sherlock”, I said calmly. “I wanted you naked on your hand and knees by the fire, so I can be inside the man I love as soon as possible!”

He nodded again and half-stumbled as he knelt down and presented himself to me. My day had not been totally fruitless; I had visited a certain shop a little further down Baker Street where I had been able to purchase several jars of unguent for various purposes. Lucky shopkeepers they, as I would be using them a lot in future. 

John was visibly trembling as I positioned myself behind him and ran a finger teasingly around his rim. For some reason my brain chose that precise moment to record that in our six days of sexual hedonism my love had not once asked to take the lead. Not just now I told it, but definitely later!

He let out another delicious noise as I breached him.

“What _is_ that?” he gasped.

“I got it from a rather useful little shop down the road”, I said, working my finger in and eliciting several more pleasured moans from the beautiful man I had at my mercy. “It is called 'Right-Of-Passage' and is meant to make the experience even more intense.”

“Says the man with the Herculean cock!” John gasped.

“An interesting analogy”, I mused as I widened him even more quickly than usual (I was definitely getting more of this stuff). “Especially considering that particular hero had so many male lovers as well as female ones.”

I had managed to get my own cock out with my other hand, my innate flexibility being put to good use at long last, and rubbed it teasingly against his entrance. He actually _whined_ and tried to back onto me but I teasingly pulled back before positioning myself at his entrance. And then I thrust straight in.

“I am going to have to find some sort of gag for you if we do this again”, I said conversationally. He either nodded or was having some mild fit, hopefully the former, but when I reached round and laid the lightest of touches on his own now fully erect cock he went off like a rocket, making me silently thankful that I had placed the sheet on the floor beforehand. For all her toleration of such things I doubted whether our estimable landlady would have been pleased with her rug being treated in such a way.

John was moaning because while he had achieved his own release I was still hammering away inside him and, most cruelly, deliberately aiming to avoid his prostate. But his cries now sounded as much pained as pleasured, so I changed my angle and went for it. He froze for a moment as I came violently, then slumped gracelessly onto the floor taking me with him. 

We lay there for some little time.

“We had better get up”, I said reluctantly. “They will be bringing our dinner up in less than twenty minutes.”

His breathing was still much faster than normal and he did not immediately answer. When he turned his head to stare unfocussedly at me I immediately kissed him.

“Time for another go?” he asked hopefully, actually batting his eyelashes at me. I sighed. He really was incorrigible!

֍

We had time. And it was his own damn fault that we had to do it again three times before we went to bed. He really had to stop looking so damn tempting or Lieutenant-Colonel Sherlock would be applying for his next promotion sooner than expected!

֍


	2. Chapter 2

At breakfast the following morning I told him about Gaillard's poisoning and that I would be making some inquiries into it. He looked distracted at first – I may or may not have woken him by sucking him off and having him shuddering in my bed and screaming for mercy again – then froze as he realized what that meant. A long cab ride! 

Fortunately among my many purchases at the special shop had been some jars of what they called 'Morning After' a most wonderful unguent which cooled on contact with the human skin. So the only problem John did have was getting past our landlady and her daughter who were both wearing smirks as wide as the River Thames! I would have commented but I could see a certain firearm through the door into Mrs. Harvelle's room so I wisely refrained.

The Central And West London Gymnasium lay about half a mile from my parents' home and, with only a small park in between, Gaillard would easily have been able to cut across that and reach home almost as fast as if he had taken a cab. Yet despite his assurances to Luke that he had indeed walked (which same had been telegraphed to me that morning) I was still suspicious. Gaillard rarely walked anywhere and his most intense form of exercise was opening his current bag of sweets!

“You believe that he went somewhere else?” John asked. I had not smirked at his careful movements all morning, although the way he kept pouting suggested that I may have come close on perhaps the odd occasion.

“The route home would be a pleasant one if he had indeed walked through the park”, I said, “but yes, I think he must have gone somewhere else. Perhaps the people at the gymnasium might have an idea.”

Inside the building we were met by one of the trainers, a muscled young blond fellow called Mr. Edwy Archer who was wearing a vest that was at least one size too tight. And he looked at me in a most curious manner as I asked my questions, although from John's unhappy growling (which he later said was a mild and rather sudden cough) I could perhaps guess why.

“Your brother Mr. Gaillard”, he said. “Sorry I am to say it sir, but he was hardly much of an addition to our noble establishment. He spent most of his time in the small restaurant talking to one of the ladies there, a Miss Palsgrave. She is not in today, I am afraid.”

“I have to tell you”, I said gravely, “that around the time he was in your 'noble establishment' my brother was poisoned.”

The young fellow's eyes widened in shock.

“I very much doubt that it could be anything he had here”, he said, a little defensively I thought. “We only serve healthy foods in the restaurant and I know for a fact because the restaurant manager Mr. Knollys told me that he did not order anything. And he would notice someone like that.”

“My brother did not use your exercise facilities?” I asked. 

John was now almost on top of me, looking at the trainer in a way that was bordering on murderous. The fellow actually took a step back from us both.

“He had a locker here”, he said, eyeing John warily. “Come to think of it, that was one odd thing. We have small, medium and large lockers, and he paid for a large one.”

Aha! I knew that Mother was wont to search all our rooms without warning, so this was where Gaillard kept things that he did not want her to see. I needed to see inside that locker – even if there was the distinct possibility (this was Gaillard after all) that the contents might scar me for life.

֍

John and I stared incredulously at the huge locker (seriously we could both have fitted in there!). I had not expected gymnasium clothing or anything like that, but....

“It is like a sweet-shop!” John exclaimed. “Sixteen, twenty.... twenty-four jars in there!”

“He could not store them at home so he told Mother that he was taking up exercise and got her to pay for his storage here while he chatted up one of the ladies”, I said with a slow smile. “She will _kill_ him when she finds out!”

“How could she ever find out, though?” John pointed out.

“Well, the next time he pulls any sort of prank on me I shall be sending Mother an anonymous letter”, I said. “And I must get my photographer friend Mr. Adams to come down and take a picture of this, just in case he decides to move it for some reason. But this does not explain the poisoning.”

“Maybe it was just stomach-ache?” John suggested. “Just a fraction of this would surely cause such a thing.”

I shook my head.

“We need to look elsewhere”, I said. “Let us go.”

֍

The gymnasium was at the end of a row of shops in Hector Road and there were more the other side of the street either side of the small cut-through that led to the park and my parents' house. I scanned them all then chuckled.

“What is it?” John asked.

I pointed to the dreadfully-named 'Sweet Dreams', a small confectionery shop. 

“My sweet-toothed brother did not travel that far out of his way after all”, I smiled. 

“All that sugary goodness”, John sighed. “I will be hard put to resist it.”

“Oh you will be hard put soon enough!” I teased, delighting in the way he was flushing bright red in the middle of a north London pavement. “But do not worry – I will be devoting the rest of my life to making sure you work off any extra pounds and ounces.”

It was wrong of me to enjoy the fact that he had to hold his doctor's bag in front of him as he scurried after me. Probably wrong. Whatever.

֍

'Sweet Dreams' (oh dear!) was currently being staffed by an unprepossessing young dark-haired fellow of about twenty-five years of age, who looked at us curiously over the top of his round-framed glasses.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen”, he said politely. “I am Mr. Martin Bushell. How may I be of assistance?”

“Two things”, I said. “Pleasure first, for once. Do you have any acid drops?

His face fell.

“I am afraid that that is one of the few things that we are currently out of stock on”, he said regretfully. “As you can see we carry a good range but a gentleman came in last Saturday and purchased two jars, our entire stock. May I offer you something else perhaps?”

I looked at him curiously.

“You obtain your supplies from Crowland's?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. They are a high-quality business and we have never had any complaints. Is something wrong?”

I thought for a moment.

“I noticed that the board outside said that the shop is registered to a Mrs. Bushell”, I said. “Is she here?”

A shadow passed over the young fellow's face.

“My mother retired recently after a bad fall”, he said heavily. 

“And you inherited the shop?” I asked.

“Yes. I have a older brother Matthew but he had never shown any interest in the business, working as he does as a scientist. Is there a reason for all these questions, sir?”

He was clearly on edge now. I leaned forward.

“I have to tell you”, I said slowly, “that my brother was the sweet-toothed gentleman who has been probably your best customer in recent weeks. And I consider it quite likely that the reason he is currently recovering from an attempted poisoning in hospital is that one of the jars that he purchased had been adulterated.”

The man turned deathly pale. I reached into my pocket and extracted the small bag of acid drops I had taken from the jar in Gaillard's locker before leaving.

“I am not a betting man”, I said slowly, “but I would make a wager that when I take these to a scientist friend of mine and have them tested, they will yield a significant amount of poison.”

“But that is impossible!” Mr. Bushell protested. “Crowland's has an excellent name and they would never.....”

He stopped and somehow managed to go even paler.

“As I am sure you have just worked out”, I said, “someone very clearly poisoned these sweets after they left the manufacturer but _before_ they reached your shelf. My second wager would be that your brother has access to this shop and that he was the one who poisoned your stock, thinking no doubt that a run of customers suffering from indigestion after eating your stock would give you a bad name. It was his bad fortune – or perhaps London's good – that my brother grabbed your entire stock of acid drops although I might still be inclined to check your other jars, especially of anything with a strong taste.”

He nodded, looking shocked at the way things had turned out, and we left.

֍

_Postscriptum: Mr. Matthew Bushell was confronted with the evidence of his actions and in return for a slightly reduced sentence agreed to say which other confectionery jars he had adulterated (three in all). John later purchased me a pound each of the four different types of barley-sugar that 'Sweet Dreams' stocked – the case had been worth it for that alone, I thought. And I purchased him his favourite rhubarb and custard sweets, for as I said we now had all sorts of exciting ways of working that sort of thing off. Then I took him home to demonstrate....._

_I duly had Gaillard's locker photographed and then cleared, leaving him in dread that Mother had somehow found out his secret cache. He must have eventually decided that it was someone else for the following year he tried another prank on me whereon I posted that photograph to our parents' house. At least the hospital was nearby!_

֍


End file.
